London, France & Underpants at the Fringe

Ooh la la.

Last night we went to a variety burlesque show as part of the Minnesota Fringe.

The show was performed by the troop from Lili's Burlesque.

For the Fringe, they dubbed their bit "The Underpants Show."

And underpants we did see. There was also liberal use of pasties and feather boas.

But this was so more than a strip tease show. There was a UPS man who danced a duo with a dolly. There was a ukulele ditty about the trials of making out in a canoe.

And there was a healthy dose of audience participation, which just made everything all the more fun.

So much fun, in fact, that should Lili's Burlesque return to the Fringe next year, they will be at the top of my list to go and see ... and recommend.

After the show, we walked half a block to Erte, a locally-owned and fancily-decorated restaurant/bar.

Eager to retain the high spirits that I was in after watching The Underpants Show, I ordered up a martini even though it came with a double-digit price tag.

Good thing I brought my designated driver hubby along with me. There was $10 worth of alcohol inside that $10 martini.

Gypsy Passion at the Minnesota Fringe

It's that time of year again. It's time to Fringe.

What's a Fringe?

In Minneapolis, it's 10 days of "experimental" theater. The performers might be (but probably aren't) professional actors, comedians, playwrights, dancers, choreographers or musicians. Most likely, they want to be, but it's just as likely they are Fringing for fun.

The shows aren't planned by a governing body or board of directors. Instead, people submit their ideas for a production and then applications are drawn from a pot until all the show times are filled.

This means you never really know what you're going to get when you go to a Fringe show. The actors might be awkward. The audio might be scratchy. The audience might be slim. But that's the fun, and the point, of it all. Plus, you never know. Maybe you're watching the next Diablo Cody in action; she did, after all, write "Juno" right here in the Twin Cities.

I don't suspect, however, that the Fringe show I saw last night is about to take Hollywood by storm. It was called Gypsy Passion and it was, bascially, 60 minutes of bellydancing performed by middle-aged (or almost middle-aged) women.

I have to give these gals credit though. I wasn't up there baring my belly and I certainly wasn't up there giggling my bare belly in front of a bunch of strangers.

If nothing else, I enjoyed the opportunity to go into zone mode and listen to funky music while focusing on little more than a bunch of swirling women in pretty colors.

Licks Unlimited

Last night there was a party on my tongue.

It was a gooey, chocolaty, fudgey, fruity medley of bliss. It was ice cream and it was from a little shop called Licks Unlimited.

Licks Unlimited is in a little-town-turned-suburb of Minneapolis called Excelsior that sits on the banks of beautiful Lake Minnetonka.

Excelsior used to be an exclusive resort town, back in the day when women carried parasols and the most powerful of men were railroad barons.

Now that there are modern highways to whisk you there, anyone can easily pass a summer evening on Excelsior's old-time main street drag eating dinner, lapping ice cream, walking the boardwalk and seeing a movie. And that's exactly what we did. The highlight of the evening, though, by far, was our stop in Licks Unlimited.

I spotted the flavor I wanted almost immediately. It was called Chocolate Truffle, or Chocolate Heaven, or Chocolate Brownie Bits, or Chocolate Raspberry Delight, or something like that. I don't remember its proper name. Instead, the name that sticks in my head is "A Party On The Tongue."

That's exactly what the fresh-faced, blond-haired Minnesota boy behind the counter said when I asked if it was good.

"A party on the tongue? You're making that up!" I said.

"No, I'm not. That's what everyone says about it," he replied, a smile stretching from ear to ear and almost beyond.

We bantered then, once I saw that he was up for the play, about whether or not any of the other flavors could ever hope to rise up and be better than "A Party On The Tongue."

"Is this just the best summer job ever?" I finally quizzed.

"This is my fifth summer here, and yes it is," he stated firmly.

At this point, another fresh-faced, blond-haired Minnesota boy came out from the back room. "I'm 23 and I still work here every summer," he said. "I've had this job since I was 14, and I even own my own carpet company now!"

"Is it hard to get a job here?" I asked.

"Yes it is," answered the second boy, the 23-year-old. "We get a hundred applications a year."

"So what did you have on your application that got you this job?" I wondered.

"A brother," said the first boy.

"No, it's not about the application," the second one said. "It's about personality. If you don't have that, you don't get the job."

Of Chocolate and Tres Leches

I love chocolate.

However, mine is not a simple love. Chocolate and I have a very complex relationship. Indeed, it could be said that one does not fully understand me until one fully understands the depth of my chocolate cravings.

And yet, recently, just this month in fact, I encountered a dessert so good that it has almost made me (gasp) forget chocolate.

It is the very un-chocolaty tres leches cake from Masa, a fancy Mexican restaurant in downtown Minneapolis.

I wrote of my first Masa tres leches encounter here on this blog and I've also been talking it up to those within ear shot.

And last night, I also managed to talk my hubby and another couple into heading downtown and getting some tres leches cake.

Masa is kiddy-corner from Minneapolis' Orchestra Hall and on warm summer weekends, there is free music outside in the plaza. We stopped in at Masa and ordered up the dessert to go.

We ordered two slices of tres leches, and then, just as the hostess took off for the kitchen, my chocolate dark side got the better of me. I called her back and switched one of the tres leches slices to the chocolate cake.

A massive Frida Kahlo posed in the entrance way kept us company as we waited for our take out cake. Once it arrived, we took it across the street to Peavy Plaza for some people watching, some music listening and some sweet eating.

I was a little worried that I'd built up the tres leches to such epic goodness that it wouldn't impress my friends. But it was every bit as delicious as I remembered and all of us were sucking our forks clean of every last tres leches lick.

And even though the chocolate cake was also very good, I actually (double gasp) preferred the (you guessed it) tres leches.

Tres Servings of Masa's Tres Leches

My friend Jen (who is as Che obsessed as me) turned another year better this week and in honor of her birthday, we headed out for a fancy dinner on the town. We went to Masa, a trendy spendy Mexican place on Nicollet Mall in downtown Minneapolis.

It was Jen's pick, but I was equally eager to eat there. Last year, not long after the restaurant's doors first opened, I interviewed the head chef - Saul Chavez - about his Mexican upbringing for an article I was writing. Mexican food, he had said, wasn't all refried beans and tacos, and through Masa's menu, he was trying to showcase the finer side of Mexican cuisine.

Consider it showcased! Between the cocktails and the main plates (mine being a scrumptiously rich chicken mole) Jen and I managed to wrack up a $70 bill!

When it was time for dessert I deferred to Jen. It was her birthday, after all, and anyway, I already knew exactly what she was going to pick: the tres leches cake.
Jen loves tres leches cake. I could live without it; chocolate will forever call my name. But since I often hang out with Jen, and since we often go out for dessert, I've sampled many a tres leches about town.

However, Masa's tres leches cake is the best tres leches cake I've ever had!

I had only planned on one bite, maybe two. Instead, I gobbled half the helping, and even scarfed down the last two fork fulls once Jen said she was all done.

The cake was ultra moist, as tres leches is supposed to be, but unlike so many of the other tres leches I've tasted, this one wasn't overly wet. Its white, whipped topping was dusted with zest of lime and two swirls of refreshing fruit puree - one mango, the other grapefruit - polished off the presentation.

I could easily have eaten tres servings of this tres leches!

Towing the Labyrinth Line

There is a labyrinth in a public garden not far from my home. I've known of its existence for some time now, but just never got around to checking it out. Today, however, in an attempt to break myself out of my mental summer slump, I decided to go seek something new in my own back yard.

A labyrinth, I knew, was not a maze, not a place to enter and get lost. Well, actually it is. But unlike a maze where the point is to get lost, turned around and successfully back out again for fun, a labyrinth is a place to get lost in thought, a place for serious contemplation.

I doubted this would work on me. I have a hard time turning off my brain and it didn't seem like following a path of paverstones set in the grass would be an activity capable of overhauling my mind and shutting it down.

But guess what! It did!

I took my first step, wound myself along the path and before I knew it, all thoughts of my nagging to-do list were gone. All I focused on was the path and the way the blades of grass grew up in between the stones.

By the time I reached the center stone, the end of the line, my body felt so compelled to keep trailing the path that it was a jolt to my consciousness to have stopped moving.

I noted the sensation, curious that the ancient idea of a labyrinth had worked some sort of magic on me, and then turned around and retraced my steps, going out the same way I went in.

Minne-Apple No More

GoNomad recently posted another one of my stories:

Minne-Apple No More: Minneapolis Steps into the Spotlight.

Max had asked me long ago to pen a guide to Minneapolis. Finally, finally, I got around to doing it. What I came up with was a list of arty activities to do in the city.

Anyone thinking Minneapolis is fly-over country, should follow the link, scroll through the theater, museum and music listings and change their mind.

Supporting the Sorta Hometown Girl

Ever since the movie Juno was released in December, screenplay writer Diablo Cody has been getting a lot of media attention -- especially here in the Twin Cities.

Minnesota loves to promote its own and even though Cody only lived in the Twin Cities for a short time, and doesn't live here anymore, seemingly every local publication has pumped out glowing articles about her and her ascent into the national spotlight, which started right here in little ol' Minneapolis.

Of course hubby and I went to see Juno soon after it opened. To not have would have felt like we were breaking some sort of law, such was the glitter and fanfare it received. And it was fun to hear the characters reference such backyard landmarks like "Ridgedale Mall" in the film.

When Juno received four Academy Award nominations (best actress, best screenplay, best director and best film), we nodded our heads and concurred that yes, it had been a good show.

So when I came across a stack of hardcover copies of Candy Girl: A Year in the Life of an Unlikely Stripper for 4 bucks at Barnes and Noble the other day, I had to get one. Before she wrote Juno, Cody wrote Candy Girl and it's filled with Minneapolis references.

I read it over the weekend. It was a VERY fast read. And I was actually kinda surprised by the fact that all the place names weren't disguised. One could actually use Candy Girl as a sort of guidebook to Minneapolis Strip Clubs (if one were looking for that sort of thing).

But, after closing the back cover, I still had one question. Why is the book called Candy Girl?

I kept thinking that "Candy" was going to have been her stripper stage name, but it wasn't.

I feel like I'm overlooking something totally obvious. Anyone out there know the reason behind the title?

Oh, Those Hot-Humid Days of Yore

It's really cold here in Minneapolis. Sub-zero cold. Negative-30-degrees-wind-chill cold.

It's that time of year when I ask myself, "Why do I live here?"

And yet, I kinda like the frigid temps. Not because I'm a glutton for frostbite, but because life indoors turns all cozy and comfy. The freezing air is a logical, perfect reason to stay at home, eat hot soup, stay in my pajamas all day, drink loads of coffee and read books (as if I needed an excuse to read books).

My most recent read took me someplace far away and far hotter than home: Burma.

I snuggled up with my doggies and Emma Larkin's book Finding George Orwell in Burma. The title had been on my radar since its release for a couple of reasons.

One - It was written by a woman and I'm always interested in travel tales penned by the ladies.

Two - It was about George Orwell and his life in Burma. One of my all time favorite pieces of writing is an Orwell essay called "A Hanging", which takes place there.

Three - I went to Burma and love to read about places I've been.

Four - This past fall, when Burma (also known as Myanmar) was making daily headlines, a friend asked me what she could do to help the Burmese. I think, the best thing we can do, is to first inform ourselves about what is going on there, to really understand the problem.

After reading Finding George Orwell in Burma, I feel like I understand the country's situation much, much better. Having been to the country, I was totally blown away by the author's travel courage.

When my hubby and I look back on our one week in Burma, we often say that we can't believe how lucky we were to have gotten in, gotten around and gotten out without any major problems.

We were smart travelers, used to the road and used to hassles when we landed in Burma, and still, the country knocked us flat. It was an emotionally draining place to be a budget backpacker. The heat, the culture, the inequity, the level to which the country was under-developed, all of it seeped into our heads and muddled our thoughts and yet we knew that in such a different, different land, we had to remain alert.

For anyone looking to learn a little more about Burma, I highly recommend Larkin's book. It is intelligent, well-written and incredibly interesting.

* Photos
- cover art for Finding George Orwell in Burma
- my own foggy shot of a fisherman on Burma's Inle Lake

TC Green

I did a little holiday shopping this weekend. The first place I hit was a store I've been reading a lot of press about: Twin Cities Green.

The store is operated by a Twin Cities couple. This is their second store front. The first, Re-Gift, is also in Minneapolis.

The stores specialize in selling recycled and reclaimed goods that are fairly-traded or made from organic/sustainable materials.

There was furniture big and small. For example, there was an entire bedroom set but there were also end tables. There were Christmas tree ornaments, lamp shades, martini glasses, tins of lip balm, tubes of diaper rash cream, squares of dark chocolate and rolls of 100 percent recycled toilet paper called Shit-B-Gone.

It certainly wasn't crowded when I stopped by, however, there were a fair number of people milling about and I did have to wait in a line two-deep before making my purchase.

I only found a couple items as it seemed the shelves had been picked over, which (while frustrating as a shopper) made me happy for the retailers. My visit made me curious enough to want to seek out Re-Gifts. I didn't make it this weekend, but it's now on my shortened to-do list.

Mmm Bop Grows Up and Gives Back

I really should read the Sunday paper on Sunday. When I don't, I miss out on good stuff. Like this:

Hanson - that teeny bopper boy band of three blond-haired brothers from the 1990s - was in Minneapolis yesterday and performing at First Avenue.

FIRST AVENUE!!!

If you're not a Twin Cities person, this might not mean anything to you. Let me fill me you in. First Avenue is where Prince got his start. It's the setting for the movie Purple Rain. The building occupies a downtown Minneapolis corner and is painted pitch black -- inside and out.

The outside walls are studded with silver stars boasting the names of musicians that have played there, names like U2, the Ramones, Soul Aslymn and Cake. The interior walls, again, are black. The focus is not the decor, which is quite lacking, but the stage.

It's hardly the sort of place where a one-hit-wonder boy band makes a come back. Or is it?

Turns out the Hanson brothers have grown up. So have their politics. And so has their music.

The brothers had been spending time in Africa, doing philanthropic deeds, and decided to record a song with a South African child choir.

Proceeds from the download of the resulting song, Great Divide, support relief work in Africa. Check out the video...

Need Magazine: Ideas for Giving

It's snowing here in the Twin Cities and this morning I wrapped myself up in a thick blanket with a pot of coffee and the newest issue of Need Magazine, which is published right here in Minneapolis.

If you've never heard of Need Magazine, that's because it's quite new. It's only been around for a year. Its tagline sums up its mission quite well: "We're not out to save the world, but to tell the stories of those who are."

As a traveler, I'm drawn to the magazine because many of its articles are about far away places.

As a reader, I've found I appreciate the layout -- lots of white space, nice color photographs and good writing.

In this issue there is an article about several nonprofit organizations that do good in various parts of the world. I learned about Nothing but Nets, a group that buys and distributes mosquito nets in Africa to help prevent the spread of malaria. Just $10 buys and ships one net.

There is also a nice profile about a man named Jorge Chojolan, an indigenous Mayan man who overcame poverty and started The Miguel Angel Asturias Academy, a school for 200 children in Xela, Guatemala's second largest city.

And if you're still on the hunt for a unique holiday gift for a traveler you know, I think a subscription to Need would be a great idea.

Browsing Book Arts

I attended an afternoon workshop at the Loft, a writer's organization in Minneapolis. I didn't leave when the class was done, however. I stuck around and browsed book arts.

One of the reasons I love the Loft is that it shares its restored warehouse building with a handful of book-minded organizations, one of them being the Minnesota Center for Book Arts.

The MN Center for Book Arts holds classes on papermaking, letter pressing, book binding and the sorts. Several paper artists were holding a craft sale and I spent at least an hour happily wandering their stalls and marveling at what people can do with paper.

I even picked up a Christmas present or two.

*book arts banner © MN Center for Book Arts

Georgia vs. Frida in Minneaplis

Every once in a while, being a freelance-writer comes in handy. Yesterday was one of those days.

I was invited on an art tour by Meet Minneapolis, the city's revamped tourism board. The Twin Cities are gearing up for a big tourism push as the Republican National Convention is coming to town next fall.

The redesign of all the official tourism materials is just one of many steps the city is taking to help promote the area before it will be so prominently on display to the nation. Somehow my name ended up on the communication department's list of freelance travel writers. I wasn't about to complain.

The morning started at the Minneapolis Institute of Arts, one of my favorite places in the city. The massive permanent collection is open free to the public, and I've always liked to wander the halls, seeking my old favorites and waiting for new pieces to catch my eyes.

But on this day I was entering the featured exhibit for free - with a docent - before the doors even opened to the public. I was so excited.

The featured exhibit from now until January 6 is a collection of works by Georgia O'Keeffe. The exhibit starts with a charcoal drawing from her very first show and ends with a charcoal drawing made at the end of her life. The two are oddly similar. Eerily so. It makes the exhibit feel like it completes a full circle. It also makes it seem as if Georgia O'Keeffe herself struggled, or was obsessed with, reoccurring ideas/images throughout her life.

I was drawn to this painting, one from a series of images she made with pelvic bones in her beloved New Mexico. I so liked this one because as soon as I saw it, it reminded me of this picture I shot on the Perito Moreno Glacier in Argentine Patagonia.

After having our Georgia fill, the group of freelancers was loaded into a van and shuttled to the Walker Art Center for a tour of that museum's current featured show: Frida Kahlo.

I have a sort of love-hate relationship with the Walker. I love its funky, boxy, outer shell. I love the very idea that this museum is able to exist in my hometown. The Walker is an ultra modern art museum. Everything in its permanent collection was produced after 1945. Sometimes, when I go there, I look at the installations and think, "What the hell is that?" This ain't no stuffy museum. I've seen things here that make me blush.

This past year, the Walker has knocked itself out to bring some big name shows to town. Over the summer, a Picasso exhibit took over the joint. Now, Frida Kahlo has moved in. She'll be there through January 20, 2008.

Unfortunately, the Walker was already open and the Frida exhibit was already packed (yes, packed on a Thursday morning) when we got there at 10 am. Being a novice Frida connoisseur, I was shocked to see the walls were filled with serious pieces, I mean big-time, famous Frida paintings. The Two Fridas. A Few Small Nips. The Henry Ford Hospital. At least five of the paintings were on loan from a museum in Mexico City's Chapultepec Park, a museum I visited when I was there. Also on display is a huge collection of personal family photographs of Frida and Diego.

After a nice lunch, my media tour was done. I will certainly be heading back to the Walker to take in the Frida exhibit at my leisure. Although, now I just have to figure out when to get there so I can have the art to myself....

* Minneapolis Montage, Meet Minneapolis
* Geogria O'Keeffe, Pelvis Series, 1947
* Walker Magazine cover, Nov/Dec 2007